


Mass Effect Snippet Collection

by otherhawk



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Candy, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, High Heels, Interlude, Mama-bear Shepard, hamster - Freeform, slight daddy issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 08:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otherhawk/pseuds/otherhawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Mass Effect stories, probably mostly set in Mass Effect 2 at present. Where there's romance, it will be Shepard/Garrus, where there's Shepard it will be my custom femShep who is an adept with the earthborn and war hero backgrounds. Mostly going for lighthearted and humorous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Little Things

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Horizon and sometime before Shepard/Garrus romance has begun.

Garrus wasn't completely against waiting around. As a good sniper he'd often had to spend hours watching his targets, waiting for the perfect opportunity. However, when he was waiting for Shepard, he got antsy. 

Shepard's squad was the last to arrive back at the shuttle from their reconnaissance, looking for the supposed Blue Suns hidey hole on this miserable rain-drenched planet. All they had was a rough clue to a ten kilometre area, and since the visibility was practically nil, and something in the rain disrupted comms, they'd split up into three teams to try and find it. Garrus had arrived back with Jack and Kasumi, and Miranda, Tali and Jacob had appeared soon after, but Shepard's group had needed to go further afield. And that left Garrus taking shelter from the rain in a confined space with Jack and Miranda, which was demonstrably less fun than giving a varren a bath. 

So far they'd restricted themselves to simply glaring at each other from opposite sides of the shuttle, but he was sure that couldn't last, not when Jack seemed to regard waiting patiently as some new form of torture. Dammit, he really didn't want to have to play peace-keeper here. It didn't come naturally to him like it did to Shepard, particularly not when he was busy worrying 

It was utterly irrational on his part, but he didn't like her going on missions without him. It had been a month since she'd come back, but he still woke up each morning half convinced that he was going to find out it was all a dream and she was really still dead. He'd taken to asking EDI for her location every morning just to hear the AI confirm that Shepard was alive and on the ship.

That wouldn't be what was bothering Jack, of course, but it was clear that something was. He frowned at her as she drew her knees up to her chest and shifted her shoulders in what he was pretty sure was an irritable way. She looked paler than normal. Suddenly he didn't think this was just the biotic's usual impatience. 

Biotic. Oh, of course.

He reached into one of the compartments in his armour, drew out a candy bar and held it out to her. “Here.” 

She just stared at it for moment and then stared at him suspiciously. “Why?” she demanded. 

“Because you haven't had a chance to eat since this morning,” he said easily.

Kasumi laughed. “Well, I hope you brought enough for everyone, Officer Vakarian.” 

“Sorry,” he said, not taking his eyes off Jack. “Contrary to popular rumour, turians are not made of candy.” 

Jacob choked. “I don't think that's the rumour.” 

No one got the dead pan thing. One more reason to wish Shepard was here. Not that he needed another reason, really. “Isn't it? Ah, well, perhaps I'll start one. Give the whole galaxy something to ponder over.” 

“Seriously, why?” Jack demanded with growing belligerence. She wasn't the only one looking at him like he'd lost his mind though.

“Biotics need to consume a high calorie count,” Garrus reminded her. “Just eat the candy before you pass out.” 

“What the fuck do you care?” Jack asked, the blue crackle of a biotic surge running across her arm.

He clicked his mandibles slowly. “You want a reason that's based on self-interest? Alright. Technically you're on my squad right now. If you're in no condition to fight, it would make me look bad. Also, I hate it when humans pass out. You do that eyes rolling into the back of the skull thing. Freaks me out every time.” 

Jack huffed crossly and grabbed the candy bar. “Can I even eat this? Isn't turian food poisonous to humans or something?” 

“Yes, but that's levo,” Garrus answered patiently. “It's designed for humans. Come on. Eat.” 

That was apparently enough and Jack tore the wrapper open and stuffed the whole candy bar in her mouth.

“You're welcome,” Garrus said dryly. 

Jacob was looking at him curiously. “How come you carry food you can't eat?” 

“Probably because Jack isn't normally the human biotic Garrus follows around,” Kasumi said archly, giving him a knowing look.

“They're for Shepard,” Tali exclaimed. “Oh, Garrus.” 

The two of them were looking at him like he'd done something adorable. 

He coughed. “Yes. Well. It seemed practical.” What had been less practical was the way he'd carried on buying the candy bars and carrying them around in the two years Shepard had been dead. He'd even made a point of seeking out and buying new flavours. It had felt like he was just waiting for her to come back. “Are you two good?” he asked quickly, looking at the other two biotics in the shuttle, and now he came to think of it, why were there so many human biotics on this squad? They weren't asari, after all. 

Miranda sniffed. “Some of us are responsible enough to regulate our diet and pack our own supplies.” 

Jacob just smiled. “I wouldn't want to take Shepard's candy.” 

“Boy scout,” Jack scoffed, licking the chocolate from her fingers. “Shepard wants it, she shouldn't have left it with her turian.” 

“Perhaps she feels safe, leaving things with _her_ turian,” Kasumi suggested, still looking at him in a way he found more than a little uncomfortable.

He was pleased for more than just the usual reasons when the shuttle door opened suddenly and Shepard leaned in, even though it meant that the rain came in too. “Everyone getting cosy?” she asked dryly.

“Shepard,” he said, relieved at the interruption. 

She raised an eyebrow in that way that sometimes meant amusement and sometimes surprise. “Am I interrupting something?” 

“Nothing important, commander,” Miranda said crisply. “Just chatter.” 

“Alright then,” Shepard said, all business. “The base is about five click north. It's well defended and they've got patrols all through the hills. We keep in three groups and hit them from three sides at once and we'll be able to cut through no problem. Let's go.” She stood back and let them climb out the shuttle.

Kasumi smirked at Garrus as she passed. “He got you chocolate,” she told Shepard in a hushed voice. Shepard just watched her impassively, arms folded.

Jack hesitated for a second before she climbed out. “Uh, thanks, Garrus,” she muttered in a rush, and raced off before he could react.

Shepard smiled at him. “ _Have_ you got me chocolate?” she asked.

A little nervous he was laying himself open to more teasing, he pulled out another bar and tossed it over. 

“Coconut,” Shepard said, before she tore it open. “See, this is why you're my favourite.” 

Her smile seemed to light up this crappy rain-soaked planet. For Garrus, her smile could probably light up this whole damned galaxy. Sometimes it was the little things that made it all worthwhile.


	2. Elegance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which it is discovered that there is no biotic trick to being elegant and ladylike.
> 
> Set just before the Kasumi loyalty mission. Written in honour of the fact that my Shep looks really out of place in that dress.

Shepard strode towards the XO's office with her chin up, daring anyone to challenge her or ask what was in the package she was carrying. She was an Alliance officer, a graduate of the N7 program, a Council Spectre and the saviour of the Citadel, and she absolutely did not do embarrassed. And she definitely didn't hesitate outside Miranda's door.

“Do you have a minute, Miranda?” she asked as she walked in. 

“There's a lot to do, Shepard,” Miranda said distractedly, focused on whatever she was working on. “Maybe another time.” 

“It's mission related,” she said as nonchalantly as she could. “I need your help.” 

Miranda looked away from the screen with open curiosity. “This mysterious job you agreed to help Kasumi with? What's wrong?” 

“Technically the Illusive Man made the agreement,” Shepard pointed out. “I just agreed to the agreement.” 

“I see.” Miranda narrowed her eyes. “And how is that working out for you?” 

“Apparently it comes with fancy dress,” Shepard said grimly, unfolding the package and holding up...

“Oh, they're gorgeous,” Miranda said, staring at the shoes in Shepard's hand with the sort of single-minded intent that made Shepard glad she carried her sidearm even on the safety of the Normandy. 

“Miranda, they've got three inch heels,” she pointed out.

“That's not that bad,” Miranda said with the assurance of a woman who would go to war in stilettos. Or for stilettos. “They're not exactly six inchers.” 

“Just as well, can you imagine how I'd look if they were any higher?” Shepard demanded.

Miranda pursed her lips. “You are a little tall,” she said, like it was a personal fault. “You're right. Walk a mile in my shoes and you'd just look gangly.”

“Gangly,” Shepard repeated calmly before shaking her head. “Not the point. Miranda, I haven't worn heels since I was sixteen, and that's fourteen years ago now.” 

“Sixteen years,” Miranda corrected her, unwisely in Shepard's opinion.

She glared. “Fourteen years and two years dead,” she said flatly. “Unless you're going to tell me you implanted me with something that would make me more feminine.” 

“It can't have been that long,” Miranda said, frowning and avoiding Shepard's admittedly rhetorical question altogether. “I know the Alliance didn't give you much time off, but there must have been parties....dates?” 

“Either informal enough I just wore sneakers, or official enough I was in dress blues,” Shepard said with a shrug. “Face it, Miranda, I'm not really a high heels sort of girl.” 

With an unsightly grimace, Miranda conceded. “Just wear another pair of shoes, Shepard,” she sighed.

Shepard held up her foot, showing the uniform sneakers she wore aboard the Normandy. “I have these or my armour boots,” she announced. “That's it.” 

Miranda blinked, like Shepard's lack of personal possessions was a revelation. “That's _it_?” 

“I haven't had a whole lot of time to go shopping since I woke up,” Shepard said defensively. 

“And yet you've managed to buy every species of fish we've come across,” Miranda noted dryly. 

She shrugged. “There's a fish tank in my quarters,” she said simply. “Since Cerberus can't explain why they thought that was a normal thing to put aboard ship, I'm going to fill it with fish.” 

Miranda's lips were pressed tight together. She hadn't been able to come up with a halfway sensible explanation for the fish tank, and Shepard was pretty sure that rankled. “I suppose if we'd just installed a shoe closet you would have been collecting shoes instead.” 

“Probably not,” Shepard admitted. She liked her fish. They didn't know or care about the Collectors or the Reapers or Cerberus. The fate of the galaxy was lightyears over their heads. On the long nights when she couldn't sleep, she'd lie awake and watch them and wonder what it was like to have no responsibilities. “Look, Miranda, will you help me or not?” 

“I'm just surprised you would come to me with this,” Miranda said slowly, watching her.

Shepard could understand why. She was admitting to a weakness, and that wasn't their usual deal. Theirs was an uneasy alliance. “Who else am I going to go to?” she asked. “Kasumi has far too much on her mind - “

“ - you think this mission might be more than she's letting on?” Miranda cut in quickly, all business for a second. 

“No, I think it's just personal,” Shepard assured her. “But I don't want to trouble her with this, and it doesn't exactly inspire confidence. But who else is there? Tali? _Jack_?” 

“I see what you mean,” Miranda sighed. “Jacob would probably be of more use to you.” 

“That raises so many questions I don't want answered,” Shepard said dryly. 

“Alright,” Miranda said briskly. “So, you have no choice but to wear the heels. What were you wanting from me?” 

“I've tried, and I can walk in them, but I can't stride,” Shepard said. “I need to be able to look like I know what I'm doing. I hoped there was some sort of trick you could show me. Maybe some biotic technique, or something?” 

Miranda stared at her. “Commander, there is no biotic power that lets you walk in high heels.” 

“Well, when you put it like _that_ it just sounds ridiculous.” Shepard grumbled. “What do you suggest?” 

“Put the shoes on and practice walking in them,” Miranda answered simply. 

It was good advice. Shepard had just been hoping that there was some trick that would make the whole thing easier. 

Half an hour and much impatient advice from Miranda later and Shepard was confident she'd be able to walk across a room without looking like some graceless debutante. Kasumi had promised they'd be smuggling their equipment in; hopefully that would mean they'd have a chance to put it on before everything inevitably went to hell. If Shepard had to fight in these shoes, she was going to kick them off immediately. Hopefully she'd be able to nail someone in the face with one of them in the process.....maybe even Kasumi. 

“Alright,” Miranda said at last, eyeing Shepard critically. “Why don't you put the dress on and we'll see if you can look intimidating in that.” 

Shepard shrugged and quickly scrambled out of her jumpsuit and pulled on the dress.

Miranda looked nonplussed. “I could have turned my head, Shepard.” 

“Sorry,” Shepard said, unrepentantly. “Being in the Alliance quickly knocks the body modesty out of you. Besides, by my understanding you've seen me without any skin. Not sure you can get more intimate than that.” 

“I suppose that's true,” Miranda said in that diplomatic way that said _I-think-you're-crazy-but-the-Illusive-Man-told-me-to-get-close-to-you-so-I'm-saving-the-arguments-for-when-it-really-matters._

To her surprise, Shepard found the dress was pretty easy to walk in. Even running didn't seem completely out the realms of possibility. Apparently Kasumi had thought things through that far. 

“So what do you think?” she asked. 

“Mmmm.” Miranda pursed her lips. “Can you do something with the hair?” 

Shepard ran her fingers through her short hair with a sigh. “It doesn't really do anything.” 

“No, I suppose not,” Miranda agreed, looking at Shepard's head critically. Shepard was suddenly struck wondering whether her hair was another thing Miranda had wanted to change and the Illusive Man had kept the same. “Have you always worn it that short?” Miranda asked.

“I had it long when I was a kid,” Shepard remembered, leaning back against the wall, her arms folded. “I cut it off during basic training. I can't stand the feeling of long hair in a helmet. Plus, everytime I took the helmet off, my hair would look like I just went five rounds with a hurricane.” She paused. “Every time Ash took her helmet off, she looked like she'd just stepped out of a shampoo ad. I always used to wonder how she did it.”She didn't know why she'd mentioned Ashley, but she thought of Horizon and the doubt and anger and fierce hurt, and she sighed. “I doubt she'll ever tell me now.” 

Miranda unconsciously flicked her hair back. “There's no biotic trick to that either, Shepard.” 

“Too bad,” Shepard smiled. “It would make a change from throwing people around the battlefield.”

“Here.” Miranda grabbed a make-up stick from her desk. “Darken your lipstick and eyeshadow, and that should - “

“ - draw attention away from the hair?” Shepard said with a raised eyebrow. 

“Commander Shepard, humanity's greatest hero is a good look,” Miranda said, half-seriously. “But I thought the idea here was to step away from that.” 

If only it was that easy, Shepard thought. “Thank you, Miranda,” she said crisply. “I'd better get going.” 

“Before you do,” Miranda called, as Shepard turned to the door. “Perhaps you might like to go next door to the battery, and show Officer Vakarian how you look in the dress. He might find the experience...enjoyable.” 

Shepard paused, mind whirling. There was something challenging in Miranda's voice, and it wasn't just her proving that she knew something Shepard hadn't known she'd known. No, this was about something else. Ah. It was about trust. Miranda wanted to know if Shepard trusted her not to react like a Cerberus bigot, and she wanted to know if Shepard was ashamed of being neck deep in a flirtation with a turian. 

Well, she was sure of the second, and almost sure of the first, so with barely noticeable hesitation she turned, her smile open and friendly. “You know,” she said thoughtfully. “I might just do that. Thanks, Miranda.” 

Miranda's eyes held grudging approval. “Anytime, Commander.” 

Shepard nodded , turned and left. Now to go find out if turians could blush.


	3. Downtime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during Mass Effect 2, shortly after Grunt's Rite of Passage.

The Citadel was as busy as ever. There was something about this place Shepard just didn't like. It had a facade of being separate from the rest of the galaxy, more important maybe, but dig a little and it was just as corrupt and dangerous as anywhere else. She preferred honesty. As much as she hated Omega, at least you knew to expect the bullets. Still, the Citadel was the best place to get supplies, and Garrus wanted to find an upgrade for his sniper rifle and Shepard had heard there was some new bio-amp firmware out that she wanted to pick up if she could find it. Plus, it was warm and sunny and it was one of the few times she got to take a walk with Garrus without someone shooting at them. It was...nice.

“I'm Commander Shepard and this is my favourite store in the Citadel.” 

She could feel Garrus looking at her as they crossed into Rodam Expeditions. “You know, Shepard,” he said in a low voice. “You can't say that every store is your favourite. It loses all meaning.” 

She shrugged. “I like them all,” she said as she started browsing through the store catalogue. 

“You like the discount,” Garrus corrected, peering over her shoulder. 

“Far as I'm concerned, the less money we owe Cerberus the better,” she said firmly. “The Illusive Man already has enough to hold over our heads.” 

“I don't think a few hundred credits are going to make a difference to him, Shepard,” Garrus pointed out. 

“It's the principle of the thing,” Shepard said, her lips twitching. “I like saving money.” Growing up back on Earth, every credit had been important and there'd never been enough.

“Oh?” Garrus asked innocently. “Is that why we open every wall safe we come across?” 

She looked at him sideways. “Do you want me to buy you this upgrade or not?”

“Please,” he scoffed. “Like you're going to give up anything that gives us an edge.”

She smiled and ran her omni-tool over the catalogue, authorising the payment. “Good point,” she agreed. 

A second later she got a call. “Commander Shepard?” Bailey said. “We've just arrested someone who says he knows you. A krogan who just tore up the Dark Star Lounge. Says his name is Urdnot Grunt. You want to claim him?” 

She sighed and exchanged a look with Garrus. “Yes, he's part of my crew,” she admitted. 

“Uh huh,” Bailey didn't sound impressed. “You want him back, or you want me to bury him in a detention cell somewhere?” 

“Tempting...” Garrus said slowly.

Shepard hit him lightly on the arm. “We'll come get him,” she promised. It sounded more like a threat than anything else.

*

Grunt looked far too large for the holding cell, especially when he leapt to his feet as she and Garrus entered and took a stance that was halfway between respectful attention and stubborn belligerence.

Shepard regarded him coolly for a moment, letting the door shut behind them. “You know, I thought we agreed you were free to explore the Citadel as long as you didn't start any fights.” 

He too a step towards her and the extra anger in the movement told her all she needed to know about his mood. “I didn't start the fight!”

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow. “So what happened? Because there's not many humans eager to start a fight with a krogan in full armour.” 

Behind her Garrus coughed. “Present company excepted, naturally.” 

“I'd had a look around,” Grunt said. “Bought....” He shifted uncomfortably. “Some things. And I was sitting at the bar, drinking Ryncol when I noticed some humans playing a game.” 

“What kind of game?” Shepard asked sharply. 

Grunt scowled. “A card game. They called it Skyllian Five or something. I don't know. It looked fun, and one of them stormed off after a while, so I asked if I could play and they said they'd teach me.” 

Shepard exchanged a quick glance with Garrus. “You asked a bunch of strangers in a bar to teach you Skyllian Five?” 

“Yeah,” Grunt said defensively. “And I was winning. At first.” 

Shepard suddenly considered that in a sense Grunt was only a few weeks old. And whatever else might have been in the memories Okeer imprinted him with, dealing with card sharps wasn't among them. She supposed it was sort of a victory over xenophobia that those assholes had managed to look past the fierce warrior to see a naïve kid. But she still didn't feel like cutting them any slack for it.

She pursed her lips. “They take you for a lot?” 

Grunt huffed and spun round, punching out at the wall. “They took my last credit! That was when I figured out they were cheating, but when I tried to confront them they ran like cowards.” 

“I'm not sure I blame them for that part,” Garrus murmured, and looking at the anger on Grunt's face, Shepard had to admit he had a point. 

“Okay,” she said briskly. “I got everything cleared with Bailey. You're free to go, just head straight back to the Normandy, is that clear?” 

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and made a grumbling, non-committal noise. She had no doubt he was planning on tracking down the card sharps.

Shepard stepped forwards quickly until she was toe-to-toe with him. “Is. That. Clear,” she emphasised. 

“Yes, Battlemaster,” Grunt said unhappily. 

Good. Now all she had to do was track them down herself.

*

She managed to spend a couple of minutes talking politely with Bailey before storming out of C Sec, her anger growing.

“You know, Shepard,” Garrus said, keeping up with her effortlessly. “The Council just got through telling you to stay in the Terminus systems and avoid making trouble in Council space.” 

“I heard it more as a suggestion,” Shepard said, glancing at him.

“I'm just saying, if you're going to start a fight you would have been as well letting Grunt do it,” he pointed out. 

“I have no intention of starting a fight, Garrus,” she replied, rolling her shoulder to try and get rid of the tension.

“Yeah,” Garrus said slowly. “You ever notice how fights seem to break out everywhere we go? It's like the galaxy hasn't noticed how charming we are.” 

She smiled slightly. “Can't imagine why.” 

“So what is the plan?” he asked. 

“I thought I'd beat them at their own game,” she said. 

“Mmm.” He considered that for a moment. “I know you're good, Shepard, but I'm pretty sure these guys cheat.” 

“So do I,” she said, her eyes bright. 

He stared at her for a long moment. “Really.” 

“Not with you,” she said hastily. “In fact, not for a long time. But I know what I'm looking for and I know what traps to avoid.” 

“Really,” he said again. 

“The Reds used to run crooked games over the chop shop,” she reminisced. “I would spot for a couple of the guys.”

He looked at her for a second, and she wasn't sure what he was thinking. “One of these days we're going to sit down and you're going to tell me all the laws you used to break when you were a kid.” 

“Uh huh.” She grinned briefly. “I think maybe playing cop and ganger is a step further for blowing off steam.” 

“I'm not even going to pretend to know what that means,” Garrus told her. “But seriously, Shepard, it sounds like these guys are professionals. You might need more of an edge.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Something like a turian with a visor that can read biofeedback?” 

“Hmm. That could work,” he agreed thoughtfully. “I can sit in the bar and keep you updated.” 

“And as long as we go in separately, no one will ever suspect we're working together,” Shepard nodded. Generally speaking, no one expected humans and turians to be working together.

Garrus was frowning. “Still, do you really think that anyone is going to sit down to play poker with the hero of the Citadel and the first human Spectre and not expect to get conned?” 

“Well, Donnelly and Daniels,” she offered. “They didn't see it coming. But yeah, I take your point. I'm gonna need....” She trailed off, noticing something across the plaza. Well, speak of the devil. “Something like that,” she said, striding off. 

“Hey, Commander,” Joker said as she approached, and Donnelly and Daniels both looked up hastily. 

“Shepard!” Donnelly said startled, looking round like he'd been caught doing something wrong and quickly hiding something behind his back. 

She raised an eyebrow and Joker sighed, rolling his eyes. At least someone knew when the game was up.“What have you got there?” she asked, making an effort to give them a friendly smile.

“Uh....well....” Donnelly said, reluctantly drawing a bottle of whisky out from behind his back and showing her.

Shepard stared down at it with a sigh. “ _Really_?” she asked, her eyebrow raised. “You're trying to smuggle alcohol onto my ship?” 

The three exchanged panicked glances. “Well....that's....we - “

Ruthlessly, Shepard cut them off. “ - Because you have noticed we're not flying Alliance colours right now, right? We're on a _Cerberus_ ship.” In deference to the fact that all three of them had signed up voluntarily, you managed not to spit the word. “They included a bar and everything.” 

“Yes, but it's rationed,” Donnelly blurted out. “And if we put it behind the bar, we'd have to share and I had to send all the way to Earth for this. I don't want to share it with a bunch of unappreciative sassenachs. Er, not you, Commander,” he added quickly, catching himself. “We'd be happy to share with you, it's just this is eighteen years old, first-fill, madeira matured - “

“ - Kenneth, you're babbling at the Commander again,” Daniels cut in, mercifully in Shepard's opinion. 

“So let me get this clear,” Shepard said, looking at them slowly. “The three of you want to smuggle this on board for the purpose of concealing it and consuming it yourselves, is that correct?” 

They exchanged another glance, this one guilty. Behind her, Shepard could hear Garrus shift from one foot to the other and she read amusement in the movement.

“Er,” Donnelly stuttered. “That is - “

“ - yeah,” Joker cut in firmly. 

She smiled cheerfully. “Okay then.” 

They blinked at her. “Okay...” Donnelly said slowly.

“Sure,” she nodded looking straight at Joker. “You know not to drink on duty or drink too much to respond in an emergency. I _trust_ you.” 

He groaned. “Oh, man...” 

“Thank you, Commander,” Daniels said happily.

“Oh, there is one thing you could do for me,” Shepard added, still looking at Joker. “As a favour.” 

“Uh, sure,” he said at once. “Name it.” 

“I need your hat,” she told him seriously.

He went pale. “ _My hat_?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I need to be incognito for a couple of hours.” 

If anything, he went paler. “You want to take my hat on a mission?” 

“Technically not a mission,” she said with a shrug. “I'll bring it back.” 

With a scowl, he took it off his head and grudgingly held it out to her. “Just don't get shot in it, okay Commander?” he warned.

She smiled. “Wouldn't dream of it, Lieutenant. I'll see you back on the Normandy.” 

As they walked away, she heard him grumbling behind her. “I hate it when she does that.” 

“Does what?” Donnelly asked curiously.

“Didn't you hear her? She _trusts_ me! How can I be charmingly irresponsible when Commander Shepard _trusts_ me?” he complained. “She did it on purpose.” 

With a grin, Shepard pulled the hat on her head, tucking her hair up inside her. “So how do I look?” she asked Garrus. 

“They'll never see you coming,” he confirmed.

*

The card sharps weren't exactly hard to track down. They were back exactly where Grunt had said he met them. If the interlude with Joker and the engineers had let Shepard's anger cool some, seeing them sitting there with a pile of credits, jewellery and whatever else they'd managed to cheat people out of, brought it back full force.

One of them was examining an action figure. There were three other action figures on the table, all in bright packaging that proclaimed them Galaxy Warriors, three krogan and a human. Shepard's eyes narrowed. 

“You think that krogan was some kind of retard?” the guy asked idly.

The other one shrugged. “He was a krogan; they're not exactly geniuses, are they?” 

“Yeah, but they don't normally carry toys around,” the first pointed out, flinging the figure back down onto the table and narrowly avoiding sending it flying off the edge.

She could drop a singularity on top of them right now. Follow it up with a couple of quick throws. She reckoned she should be able to send them crashing into the walls before they'd even had a chance to realise they were under attack.

“Focus, Shepard,” Garrus murmured through her earpiece from his vantage point at the table behind the card sharps. 

Right. She didn't make the mistake of looking at him, but she nodded fractionally anyway. She'd stick to her plan.

She took a gulp of her drink – which was still worryingly green – pulled Joker's hat down low and strolled over to the table, trying to act confident in a way that would be annoying rather than reassuring. “Hey, that a deck of cards?” she asked excitedly. “You play Skyllian Five at all? My boyfriend taught me the last time he was on leave.” She smiled smugly. “I beat him every time.” 

“We play the occasional game ourselves,” the guy allowed, with a quick smirk at his friend. “Be happy to deal you in...if you're interested.” 

“Sure,” she agreed with an enthusiasm that would put Kelly Chambers to shame. “My friends are really _really_ late, so I totally have time for a few hands.” 

“Sounds good,” the man grinned. “Just go easy on us, huh?” 

“Of course,” she laughed.

They wouldn't know what hit them.

*

They didn't...but in the end it was mostly the bar stool. Winning the money was easy enough, unfortunately, they were too stupid to just let her walk out of there. The resulting bar fight was short but undeniably satisfying, and she left the most conscious guy with the suggestion that the next time he decided to cheat someone, he should make sure he didn't pick on one of Commander Shepard's friends. 

Now, walking back onto the Normandy with Garrus, she twirled Joker's hat in her hand. “I didn't get shot wearing it,” she pointed out optimistically. 

“Yeah, I think the creases and the dirt will still count against you,” Garrus said dryly. 

“Maybe he won't notice?” she suggested. 

“Unlikely, Shepard,” EDI's voice cut in. “I have observed Lieutenant Moreau is very attached to that hat.” 

Shepard sighed. “Make a note to buy him a new one if he wants.” 

“Very well, Shepard,” EDI said smoothly. “Logging you out.” 

She sighed again and looked up at Garrus hopefully. “Would you mind taking this back to Joker? I have to go see Grunt.” 

He smiled slightly. “The things I do for you, Shepard.” 

“I might need you later,” she called after him as he walked towards cockpit. 

“I'll be in the battery,” he replied, not looking round. “I have to finish up some - “

“ - calibrations,” she finished, with a roll of her eyes.

*

Grunt was in the cargo bay as usual, pacing up and down angrily. He whirled around when she walked in and she got the impression that had she been anyone else, he'd probably have charged just for the hell of it. But seeing her, he dropped his head into an approximation of a respectful nod. “Shepard.” 

“Grunt,” she answered, with a nod of her own. “Here's your money back. And your action figures.” 

She laid them on the table by the window. For a moment he stared, stunned, between her and them before pointing an angry finger at the figures. “Those aren't mine!” he said with the panicky denial of a teenage boy.

Shepard nodded slowly and leaned back against the edge of the table. “That's Captain Leonard,” she said, picking the human figure up. “She was the first biotic in the Alliance Navy to be given command of 'normal' troops. She took back the Olympia from pirates, and saved all the hostages. I always looked up to her. She was killed just after I got out of basic training so I never got a chance to meet her.” She smiled and gently placed the figure back on the table. “It's a good likeness.” 

“Yeah,” Grunt agreed, looking at her warily. 

“I collect model ships,” she told him, leaning back. “I've got about ten of them at the moment.” 

He watched her carefully for a long moment. “Ships are good,” he allowed eventually. “Warriors are better.” 

She smiled. “Don't feel bad about what you like, Grunt. Long as it doesn't endanger the mission or hurt any civilians, what you do on your off hours is your own business, okay?” 

Grunt looked noticeably happier. “Sure, Commander.” 

“That said,” she went on determinedly. “We need to talk about what happened today.” 

“Hnnngh.” Grunt scowled non-committally. 

“It wasn't altogether your fault,” she told him, rubbing her hand across her mouth. “I should have thought more about what you could be expected to know.” 

He looked lost. 

She sighed. “If you were on a mission, and your battlemaster didn't give you a full briefing on the dangers, would it be her fault or yours if things went wrong?” 

“Hers,” Grunt agreed with a puzzled look.  


“Right,” Shepard nodded. “And I should have warned you more about life in the civilised galaxy. But we're going to rectify that. Come up to the lounge at 1900 hours. First, I'll teach you how to play Skyllian Five for real. Then, if you catch on quick, I'll show you how to cheat like they did, and I'll get the others to come play a few hands and we'll go over all the dangers of the galaxy that _won't_ announce themselves by shooting you in the face.” 

Grunt grinned. “Heh. Sounds good.” 

She nodded sharply. “I'll see you then.” 

“Shepard,” he called after, with an uncharacteristic awkwardness as she walked to the door. “Thanks. For today. For bailing me out and getting my stuff back.” 

She turned back round and shot him her brightest smile. “Anytime,” she said, and meant it. 

They might be heading out on a suicide mission with little or no hope of returning, but she'd be _damned_ if she wasn't going to take care of her people till then.


	4. Respect

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and set during the Citadel DLC. After Brooks, before the party to be exact. 
> 
> And yes, I do know the in game reasons for this, it just occurred to me that some of the other characters might wonder. :) 
> 
> And I don't know where Shepard is during this....probably obsessively trying to beat Aria's score in the Armax Combat Arena.

“We mostly refer to her as Admiral,” Tali said, gesturing firmly with her straw. “Amongst ourselves anyway. I mean, not so much the admirals...the other admirals...but it's the only thing that makes sense to the average quarian. When she was in charge of a ship, we called her Captain. Now that she is leading the entire galaxy into war and negotiating treaties for everyone, calling her anything less than Admiral would be ridiculous. And I'm an Admiral, and I follow her orders. It just doesn't make sense.” 

“She is a Spectre though,” Liara reminded them. “By definition she is outside the chain of command.” 

“Yeah, that's bullshit,” James said at once. “Far as the Alliance is concerned, she's still one of us. They can give her orders, they can give her a promotion. Or at least a couple of medals.” 

“Come on, Liara,” Garrus added. “Tali's an Admiral, Wrex is basically the leader of Tuchanka, Ashley is a Lieutenant Commander and the second human Spectre, and you're the Shadow Broker. Even I've risen so many citizenship tiers I'm not sure where I am in the hierarchy anymore.” 

“I could tell you, if you like?” Liara responded sweetly. 

Garrus shook his head. “Knowing would just depress me. But we've all done that, and Shepard is the same rank as when we first met. Seriously, does that seem right to you?” 

Liara sighed and her cheeks darkened a little. “Some of the matriarchs back on Thessia now believe we have fundamentally misunderstood the human military ranking system from the beginning, and 'Commander' is actually equivalent to 'General',” she admitted.

They laughed. “The Turian military has taken to telling jokes about what you have to do to earn a promotion in the Alliance,” Garrus said. “Most of them involved killing a thresher maw on foot, until I pointed out we'd done that more than once. Then they were about taking on a Reaper on foot, until those pictures surfaced of the thing on Rannoch with the laser pointer. Now I think they're mostly about riding a thresher maw into battle with a Reaper while armed with a sword. And on fire. I haven't told Shepard; I'm scared to give her ideas.” 

Tali tilted her head to one side thoughtfully. “That sounds like it would make an awesome tattoo.” 

“Stick with something simpler for your first time, Sparks,” James advised. “Maybe something more like a rainbow or a pretty bird.” 

She drew herself up and glared at him. “Mr Vega, I assure you I can take anything you can take?” 

“Oh, yeah?” James smirked, looking her up and down. “I'd like to see you prove that.” 

“Maybe I will,” she said, poking him in the chest with her straw before gazing at it in dismay a second later. “Keelah, now I will have to sterilise another one.” 

“So, um, why haven't the Alliance promoted Shepard?” Traynor asked James quickly.

“I dunno,” he said with a shrug. “Guess maybe it was difficult after the whole Aratoht thing.” 

“Plus, they're ungrateful asses,” Joker added.

Grunt snorted shortly. “Heh. You're all stupid. They could promote her to general right now and it wouldn't make a difference. She is Shepard. She has no equal.” 

Wrex laughed. “What do you know? The kid has a point. We all know Shepard doesn't give a damn about rank or rewards.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” Joker agreed with a grimace. “Just it would be nice to see her getting the respect she deserves.”

Wrex made to clap him sympathetically on the shoulder, but thought better of it as EDI put her arm in the way, blocking the heavy slap like it was nothing. “I would appreciate it if you did not try to break my boyfriend,” she said calmly.

Wrex bared his teeth in amusement as Joker sank in his chair. “Yeah. Right. Sorry.” 

“EDI....” Joker protested futilely.

“So what do you think?” Liara asked the AI with interest. 

EDI paused for a moment as if calculating. “In the past three days there have been eleven billion, nine hundred thousand, four hundred and thirty eight extranet searches that included Shepard's name. The population of the galaxy are fleeing the Reapers and they are looking to Shepard and, by extension, us, to save them. I am uncertain how much more 'respect' any one person can take.” 

There was a sober silence.

“Damn,” Garrus said quietly.

Joker cleared his throat. “Eleven billion extranet searches? How many of them were for naked pictures?” 

EDI blinked. “Forty-two from your terminal alone, Jeff.” She paused. “That was a joke.” 

James shoved his beer to the side. “I can't wait till the Normandy is out of dry dock.” 

“Yeah,” Garrus agreed. “We need to get back out there.” 

The galaxy was counting on them. Next to that, what else mattered?


	5. New Responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Shepard is a dutiful Spectre and the first thing she does after Freedom's Progress is go report to the Council. The second thing she does is buy a hamster.

Shepard walked slowly back through the Normandy airlock. Right now she was tired enough that the painfully-slow decontamination process didn't even bother her. She just leaned against the wall and let it wash over her, rubbing painfully at the back of her neck. 

It was reasonable enough that she was tired, she told herself. It had only been three weeks since she woke up. She was pretty sure that if she was with the Alliance, she would still be on medical leave right now. If the Alliance were in the habit of bringing people back from dead, that was. 

For some reason it bothered her that she hadn't needed any physical therapy or anything. Somehow it made the whole experience seem less real. Hell, maybe it even made _her_ feel less real. Boom, you're dead, boom, you're alive again. That sort of thing didn't happen in the real world, and hearing the confusion and _doubt_ in Tali's voice had only made it worse. Of course, she had a feeling that if she thought about it too hard she'd wind up needing the other kind of therapy. 

She sighed and rolled her shoulder, trying to get the tension out. It didn't help that the ship was quite so empty. She wished Garrus was here, or Ash or Wrex or _anyone_ really. Miranda and Jacob didn't seem like bad people, and they were certainly competent enough, but they weren't friends. 

All she needed was some rest. She hadn't been able to get much sleep so far. Too much to think about, and her quarters seemed just as empty and unnaturally quiet as the rest of the ship. For every hour she slept, she seemed to spend two lying awake, staring up and out into the stars and feeling more alone than she ever had before.

“Hey, Commander,” Joker greeted her as she stepped on board and he at least was friendly. “The supplies you ordered were delivered and your minions are stowing them all away safely.” 

“Crew members,” Shepard corrected, walking through to the cockpit. “Not minions.” 

Joker shrugged. “Well, whatever you want to call them.” 

The hamster she'd bought was sitting in its tank on what was hopefully an unused bit of console. Shepard stared at it. The hamster stared back.

“Oh, yeah,” Joker said, catching her look. “That was delivered too. The label said for your private quarter but, uh, turns out no one is authorised to enter while you're not there and Hadley felt weird about leaving it sitting outside the door, so I volunteered to look after it until you get back.” 

Her lips twitched. “Very noble of you.” 

He looked indignant. “Hey, I had to protect it from Yeoman Chambers' prying hands.” 

Shepard thought about Kelly's likely reaction to a small, cute, furry animal and groaned. “Thanks.” 

He shrugged. “No big deal. You know me, I'll defend your hamster like it was my own.” 

Smiling slightly, she sat down on the co-pilot's chair and leaned forwards to watch the hamster for a while. 

“So how did your meeting with the council go?” Joker asked casually, after a comfortable few moment's silence. “Were they delighted to have their favourite Spectre back?” 

She slumped back into the chair. “Well, they agreed I wasn't dead and reinstated me,” she said, trying to sound like she hadn't been hoping for more. “That's something.” 

“Uh huh,” Joker nodded. “And I bet when you told them about the Collectors, and how they're abducting entire colonies on orders from the Reapers, they were shocked and horrified and they all jumped at the chance to give you all the help and resources you need to stop them. After all, they wouldn't want to risk letting mass galactic destruction happen – again – by not listening to you – again.”

“Human colonies being abducted is a human problem,” Shepard said woodenly. “And the Reapers are just something Saren made up to manipulate me.” 

“Ri-ight,” Joker nodded intently. “It all makes sense now. And then he _shot himself in the head_ when you asked him to because he was so committed to selling you the lie.” 

“Something like that,” she agreed, tilting her head back against the chair. The logic left her angry and baffled too. “You know, you're right. These seats are comfortable.” 

“I told you,” Joker said triumphantly. “So you went to the Council to ask for help saving the galaxy, and you came back with a hamster. I'm guessing you thought that would be more useful.” 

She smiled again and pressed her fingers up against the sink of the hamster tank. After a second, the hamster came up to inspect them curiously “I always wanted a hamster,” she said. “I managed to get hold of some cash money when I was about nine and bought one, but the people I was staying with said no pets.” 

“They made you take it back?” Joker asked. “That sucks.” 

She glanced sideways at him and winced, remembering the boot and the sad little crunching noise. “Yeah...” she said slowly. “Let's go with that.” 

Joker blinked, and it was obvious they'd just hit one of those Things-That-Joker-Didn't-Want-To-Make-A-Sarcastic-Comment-About-So-Couldn't-Answer-At-All. She sighed internally. “You didn't want to go ashore?” she asked, changing the subject.

“Meh, the Citadel's overrated,” Joker said dismissively. “I can't imagine it's changed much in the last couple of years anyway.” 

“Well, Sparatus, the Turian councilor has started using air quotes,” Shepard offered. “So we've got that.” She felt a familiar stirring of irritation at the memory. 

“Wait, don't they only have like three fingers?” he frowned. “How does that work?” 

“I'm not asking how, I just want to make sure he doesn't do it again,” she said with a sigh. 

“Commander,” Miranda's voice rang out as she walked into the cockpit. “May I ask how your meeting with the Council.... _what_ is that rodent doing here?” 

Shepard span round in the chair and regarded Miranda with a deliberately calm smile. “He's a hamster. I bought him on the Citadel.” 

There was a look of unmistakable distaste on Miranda's face. Huh. Shepard had been expecting to clash with Miranda sooner rather than later, she just hadn't been expecting it to be over a hamster of all things. 

Miranda rallied quickly. “I'm afraid animals aren't allowed onboard ship, Commander,” she said with a tight smile. Shepard wasn't totally sure if this was because of her obvious dislike of the hamster, or because she was afraid Shepard's sudden purchase of it signalled some mental instability. 

“Really?” Shepard raised an eyebrow. “Then why is there a fishtank in my quarters?” 

“That's...not designed for fish,” Miranda snapped.

“You going to tell me what it _is_ for?” Shepard asked with interest. 

“That isn't the point, Commander,” Miranda said, dropping back into her 'reasonable' voice. “There are regulations against the keeping of animals. I'm sorry.” 

“Right.” Joker turned round and looked at her quizzically. “So what you're saying is giant toxic-spit-spewing insects _good_ , cute little hamsters _bad_. Good to know.” 

Shepard smiled slightly. Miranda opened her mouth to object, but EDI suddenly spoke up. “In actual fact, there are no existing regulations against the keeping of pets in private quarters provided they are free of disease and contained in suitable environments.” 

Huh. All three of them turned to look at the AI display. That was an unexpected interruption. “Thanks, EDI,” she said, because hell, there was never any point in completely ignoring support from any quarter.

“Alright.” Miranda's lips were thin. “I suppose it really is none of my business.” 

No. It wasn't. But that was hardly the politic thing to say. “Thank you, Miranda,” she said gravely. “If you've got a moment later, I'd like to go over Professor Solus' dossier with you. We'll be hitting Omega next, and I think that we should have the best approach all planned out in advance.”

Miranda nodded crisply, and it was obvious that she was pleased by the appeal to her professionalism. Not that it was just to appease her; Shepard had been planning on asking her advice anyway...even though experience taught her that however they planned on approaching Mordin there would inevitably be something just waiting to throw a spanner in the works. Still, she smiled gracefully as Miranda said “Very well, Shepard. I will see you once we're en route.” She turned and left, and she'd have looked just a little bit more poised and composed if she hadn't stopped to glare at the hamster first. 

Joker turned to Shepard and for a moment she thought he was going to comment on the confrontation. But instead he just looked at her straightfaced. “You know, Commander,” he began. “If we're taking on pets now, I've always wanted a pony.”

She stood up. “You say that now but we both know I'm the one who'd have to clean up after it and take it for walks...” She picked up the hamster and turned to head for her cabin. “I'd better get this little guy stowed away and try and think of a name for him. See you, Joker.” 

“Okay, but when we're finally done with this whole Reaper thing, I'm totally going to make you buy me that pony,” he yelled after her.

She smiled as she walked away, feeling just a bit lighter than she had done since she woke up. Now she just hoped that everything went well on Omega.


	6. Bar Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during Mass Effect 1

Working with non-Alliance squad members was certainly an.... _interesting_ experience, to say the least. So far she'd run across a few surprises dealing with Garrus and Wrex – nothing major, just different tactics, unexpected ways of reacting to situations – but Liara and Tali were a different matter altogether. They weren't just alien, they were _civilians._ And okay, prior to being assigned as the Normandy's XO, Shepard had been caught up in a series of solo missions that had lasted the best part of a year, so it could just be she was out of the habit of command....but she seriously doubted that any Alliance soldier would ever shriek in surprise at the sight of a bookstore, and vanish inside with only a garbled over-the-shoulder explanation of a newly found Prothean text, a possible mention of Reapers, and the need for thorough research.

Shepard and Wrex both stared after the disappearing Liara in bemusement.

“Huh,” Wrex said, baring his teeth in a way that she'd come to recognise as amusement. "Good thing we weren't doing anything important."

She glanced sideways at him, wanting to argue, but the truth was that scanning the keepers wasn't exactly the most urgent thing they had going on. “We need the credits,” she told him with a sigh.

He snorted. “Bet you thought that being a spectre would be rewarding and glamourous.”

“If they'd told me the salary, I might never have taken the job,” she said with a smile.

“Always get the money up front,” Wrex told her. “You might learn that, given a few centuries.”

She leaned back comfortably against the wall. “So you think we should wait for her....?”

“Beats chasing down anymore keepers,” Wrex rumbled, taking up position against the wall opposite.

Yeah. It probably did. They settled in like old soldiers, taking their rest where they could find it, but alert to everything around them. Shepard's eyes were closed when she heard her name coming from the news outlet beside her.

“ _....Commander Shepard's long-lost father. So far the the first human spectre has been unavailable for comment, but after interviewing him, I'm sure we can expect a reunion any day now.”_

It cut to a shot of a tall, balding man, standing in front of a skyline somewhere on Earth. He was leaning forwards, looking at the camera intently. “Giving up my daughter was the most difficult thing I ever did. Not a day has gone by that I didn't think of her, and with everything that's happened recently....” He swallowed hard, dabbing at his eyes. “I'm so, so proud of her.”

“ _And you can see the rest of that interview at eleven,”_ the announced started to say, but Shepard snarled and slammed her fist against the vid screen, the biotic blue flare exploding through it leaving the screen dead....along with several surrounding lights. 

“Shepard,” Wrex said in a low voice, on his feet and looking at her, his hand hovering around his shotgun.

Several other people were looking at her as well. A couple of them looked official. A couple of them were hurrying over towards them. 

She drew herself up tall, and when she turned, she was already smiling and projecting her default aura of calm confidence. “Spectre business, sorry,” she said with ringing sincerity. 

The onlookers hesitated, but a smiling spectre and a scowling krogan were enough to make them back off at least a little. 

“So, I'm guessing you have a few issues with your father,” Wrex stated. 

“That wasn't my father,” she said evenly, ignoring the cold shudder of anger racing down her spine. 

By the way Wrex was looking at her, she'd guess that he'd caught the emotion. “Huh. Why don't we get out of here before C Sec come to investigate? I saw a bar downstairs.” 

Shepard looked back towards the bookshop for a moment. “Liara can catch up,” she decided at last. “Let's go.” 

The bar downstairs was almost empty, possibly because the Salarian music it was playing was weirdly melancholy, at least to Shepard's ears. The bartender – also a Salarian – gave Wrex a worried look as they came in. “Listen, we, uh, don't want any trouble,” he said to Shepard. 

“We're not here for trouble,” Shepard said. “We're just looking for a drink.” 

“And then maybe some trouble,” Wrex added, leering at the bartender until he took a step back, blinking rapidly. 

“Um, sure, I think we have some ryncol somewhere,” he said quickly. “And for you spectre?” 

“Give me a whisky,” she said. 

They got their drinks and retreated to a booth at the back of the room. Wrex sat down on the side facing the wall, leaving Shepard the clear view of the only door. She gave a silent nod of acknowledgement for the trust on offer. 

She took a long drink. “That wasn't my father,” she said again after a moment. “No one knows who my biological parents were, not even me. But after Elysium, at least three people came crawling out of the woodwork, claiming to be dear old Mom or Dad. For all I know, they believed it was possible.” She smiled humourlessly. “But surprise surprise, none of them were willing to submit to genetic testing. It's a romantic story, I guess. Kid comes from nowhere, grows up to be a 'hero'. Everyone wants to be part of it.” 

“Romantic?” Wrex repeated. 

Shepard shrugged. “For humans, maybe.” 

“Any krogan would be proud to be blood with a warrior like you, Shepard,” Wrex pointed out. 

“Mmm.” She leaned back, rubbing the back of her neck. “You have to earn the right to be proud.” 

Wrex took a drink, and looked at her seriously. “What if he is your father?” 

“What if he is?” she challenged, finishing her whisky and slamming the glass down on the table. “They didn't 'give me up', Wrex, they left me in a cardboard box in an alley. Behind an abortion clinic,” she added with a tight smile. “It was winter. I'm reliably informed that if I hadn't been found when I was, I'd have been dead inside three hours. If he is my father, I might just have him arrested for child endangerment.” 

“They abandoned you?” Wrex said slowly, like it was an idea he was struggling with. 

She looked at him quickly. “I guess krogan really don't have problems with unwanted children, do they?” It wasn't something she'd ever thought about before. 

“I see it in other races,” Wrex said, shaking his head. “Doesn't make sense to me. For us, every child born is a miracle. If a female can't take care of her own child for whatever reason, there are plenty of other childless females only too eager to help. How can a child be unwanted?” 

There was bitter yearning in his voice. Shepard swallowed hard. “Yeah. Well. I don't have any problems with my place in the galaxy, Wrex. I know where I came from and I know where I'm trying to go. And I don't need to know who my father is to know who I am.” Commander Mal Shepard, Alliance officer and Council Spectre. 

“Damn right you don't,” Wrex grunted. “And tell you what. That pissdrinker turns out to be your father, I'll shoot him in the face for you. Heh. Maybe I'll just do that anyway.” 

She smiled slightly. Really, she should disapprove, but hell, she was touched. She knew Wrex had her back in battle, but it was nice to know he'd back her in other ways. And anyway, this sounded much better than having the Alliance release a bland statement. “Thanks, Wrex.” 

He shook his head dismissively. “Shepard.” 

A sudden movement caught her eye and she leaned out to get a better look. “Wrex,” she hissed. “There's a keeper under the quinball table.” 

“That bartender's watching,” he told her. “I think he's already got the call to C Sec all lined up.” 

She grinned. “Oh, I'm sure you can find a way to distract him for a few minutes,” she said, pulling the scanning device out. 

He grinned right back. “I told you. Drinks first, trouble later. Only most of the time, we don't bother with the drinks.” 

It wasn't a bad way to describe their life. 


	7. Dining Etiquette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wanted to be able to use biotics in non combat situations. Was that just me?

It was later evening by the Earth standard time that was kept on board the Normandy, but Shepard had been awake for almost three days now, and she couldn't really remember the last time she got a full night's sleep. They'd been picking through the remains of another colony lost to the Reapers, searching for more technology that could help with the Crucible. They'd managed to evacuate a handful of survivors, but there had been so many more lost. And where were the refugees even supposed to go? Ultimately, no where was safe. What could possibly be left after this war.

 

And so now she was slumped across the mess table, glazed eyes reading through casualty reports, while she picked through the concoction that passed for tonight's dinner. Their fresh supplies were dwindling rapidly. She'd need to make sure to dock at the Citadel soon to replenish. Food that actually tasted of something could make a massive difference to morale, and in this war they needed as much of that precious commodity as possible.

 

Although in this case she suspected that the problem with the food was that she could taste it. Salt. That might help. She reached out her hand, but it was just a little out of reach. With an irritable sigh, she stretched further, her hand flaring blue.

 

“Uh uh.” A three fingered hand grabbed her wrist firmly. “No biotics at the mess table, remember? That's the rules.”

 

If anyone else had grabbed her while she was flaring like that, there was a good chance they would have been thrown across the room. But she'd heard his step and Garrus never felt like danger to her.

 

She turned her head and smiled tiredly up at him. “There's no such rule.”

 

“Oh, yes there is,” he said, his words easy while he eyed her searchingly. “Me, Ashley and Tali took a vote on it back on the SR1.”

 

“Last time I checked, my ship isn't a democracy,” she pointed out.

 

He laughed silently. “We had a mutiny and set a few new rules.”

 

“I don't recall giving you permission to mutiny, Vakarian,” she said.

 

“I don't think you normally need permission to mutiny,” Cortez said with a cough.

 

James laughed. “You do if you sleep in the commander's bed and like having your balls attached,” he leered, making a gesture at Garrus that Shepard didn't even want to try and interpret.

 

She raised an eyebrow at him and James went abruptly silent.

 

“Why would you even make a rule about biotics at the table anyway?” Cortez asked curiously.

 

“Have you ever seen a krogan covered in ketchup?” Garrus asked.

 

“No,” Cortez blinked.

 

“That was all Wrex's fault,” Shepard protested. “He shouldn't have tried to grab the bottle while I was pulling it.”

 

“And that was still less messy than the time Jack used shockwave on a bowl of those worm thing,” Garrus continued.

 

“Spaghetti,” Shepard said with a sigh. “It was spaghetti, and really, there were worse things she could have been aiming at.”

 

“I'm not sure that's the point,” James said.

 

“Anyway. No biotics at the mess table,” Garrus repeated.

 

Shepard set her jaw. “There is no rule - “

 

Garrus touched his omnitool. “ - hey, Joker? What's the first rule of the Normandy.”

 

“Don't shoot the commander,” Joker said promptly.

 

She raised an eyebrow. “You know you're the only one who's actually broken that one," she murmured.

 

“Doesn't count, I just took down your shields,” he said dismissively, before replying to Joker. “Not that one. About biotics at the mess table?”

 

“Uh, I think you'll find there are _no_ biotics allowed at the mess table?” Joker said insistently. “You're not the one who had to explain to the Alliance that the suspicious stain on the ceiling was actually chilli sauce. And then had to explain how it got there. I thought they were going to send me for a psych eval.” 

 

Garrus turned to her triumphantly. “You see? It's a well established rule.” 

 

“Spectre authority,” she said levelly, reaching out a hand towards the salt. They stared at each other for a long moment in silent challenge.

 

“Oh, commander, there you are.” Traynor's voice interrupted them obliviously. “I need your signature on this – oh, were you wanting the salt? Here you go.” She walked up to the table and moved the salt cellar six inches to the right, straight into Shepard's grasp.

 

“Thank you, Traynor,” she said with a smile. “You're now my new favourite.” 

 

Traynor looked bewildered and Garrus huffed, his eyes glinting with amusement.

 

In a while she would take him upstairs and she thought that maybe, tonight, she might sleep.


End file.
